Let Me Photograph You in This Light: A Christmas Carol
by xxLittle Black Dressxx
Summary: Snapshots of Addison and Derek's Christmas past, present, and future.


A/N: I hope you're all having a wonderful holiday season! I had so much fun writing this Dickensian Addison/Derek Christmas story, and I hope you enjoy reading it. Thanks so much for reading my story, and happy holidays!

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 **Let Me Photograph You in This Light: A Christmas Carol**

" _I will live in the past, the present, and the future. The spirits of all three shall strive within me."  
_ ― Charles Dickens, _A Christmas Carol_

 _Christmas Past_

It haunts him like a ghost. Last Christmas. Their last Christmas together as a legally married couple. _Legally married_ being the operative words, of course. Because even though he and Addison were legally married last Christmas, emotionally, he didn't feel married to her. He felt nothing towards her.

And maybe that's why he thought it was okay to say the things he said to her. _Christmas makes you want to be with the people you love. I'm not saying this to hurt you or because I want to leave you, because I don't. Meredith wasn't a fling…she wasn't revenge…I fell in love with her. That doesn't go away because I decided to stay with you._ It was the truth. And Addison needed to hear it. But he didn't need to choose Christmas— _their season_. He could have let her have Christmas.

But he didn't. At the time, he didn't pay attention to the unshed tears brimming in her eyes, how her throat quivered, or the way her whole body trembled after he'd crushed any lingering hope that she'd had of them enjoying their season together. But now, looking back, he knows she must have been devastated. And he can vividly imagine the hurt that must have laced her features. He sees it all too vividly.

He remembers sitting there with her in uncomfortable silence. He didn't know how many seconds or minutes had ticked away before she stood up, mumbling something about how her hot buttered rum had already been paid for, and that if he wanted to spend Christmas with the people he loved, she wasn't going to stand in his way.

And then she left. At the time, he was aggravated. But in hindsight, he concedes that she had every right to leave. He would have. But then again, walking away is what he does best.

He didn't chase after her. He should have. But he didn't. Instead, he downed his scotch, and went up to the bar for another one.

"That was hard to watch," an unfamiliar male voice cut in, once Derek had placed his drink order.

Derek turned towards the voice and saw a thin, older man sitting at the bar, watching him. "Excuse me?"

The man took a slow sip of his beer. "That was hard to watch," he repeated.

Derek accepted his scotch from Joe, and turned to the older man. "It's none of your business," he muttered gruffly.

"Maybe not," the man conceded with a shrug. "But I just watched the woman that you were with spend the last thirty minutes setting everything up for you … trying to make everything perfect … only to be hurt. She seemed so happy … so excited. It was hard to watch how quickly that changed."

Derek shook his head. "I'm sorry, but this really isn't your place. You don't know anything about me or my life." He turned to leave, but the man's next words stopped him cold.

"That's the beauty of being just a guy in a bar, isn't it?"

"What?"

The man shrugged. "When you're just a guy in a bar, nobody knows anything about you. You have no history, no past. The anonymity is kind of nice."

"I guess."

"The thing is," the man continued. "You're not just a guy in a bar. You're a guy who loves Christmas. And you're the type of guy who likes spending Christmas with the people he loves."

"Yeah, but those are hardly traits I'd use to describe myself."

"Maybe not," the man agreed, a trace of sadness in his dark brown eyes, as he took in Derek's agitation. He looked as though he were about to say more, but then thought better of it. "I, um … never mind. I'm sorry I bothered you. I just … I thought I might be able to help you."

"Well …" Derek sighed, desperate to put an end to the awkward conversation. "That's really not necessary. Have a nice night. And a Merry Christmas."

He'd only made it a few steps, when he found himself turning around and walking back towards the man. "What did you mean when you said you thought you might be able to help me? What are you, some type of Christmas happiness fairy or something?"

A slow chuckle escaped the man's lips. "Hardly." He extended his hand. "My name's Walter."

"I'm Derek."

"It's nice to meet you, Derek."

"So …?" Derek trailed off. "What now?"

"Why don't you sit down?" Walter suggested.

"Okay," Derek nodded, sitting down next to Walter and ordering another scotch. He sat there silently, sipping at his scotch, waiting for Walter to say something.

"Christmas is my season," Walter said quietly.

Derek couldn't help raising an eyebrow at that. It was impossible not to notice that it was Christmas Eve, and Walter was in a bar, drinking alone. "It is?" Derek asked.

"No," Walter admitted, shaking his head. "It isn't. Never was. Never will be. But I wish it were. I'd give anything to make it my season."

"I'm sorry, I'm not following."

"I'm a lawyer. A corporate mergers and acquisitions attorney."

"Impressive."

"I used to think so."

"But you don't anymore?" Derek asked in confusion.

"I had a family. A wife, Judy. Two sons, Brendon and James. And a daughter, Madeline. I called her Maddy."

Derek swallowed thickly as he waited for Walter to continue.

"I loved my family," Walter went on. "But they always came second to my job."

"Sometimes work's important," Derek rationalized. "Sometimes work needs to take priority."

Walter nodded sadly. "Sometimes. But not on Christmas morning."

"What?"

"Twelve years ago, I went in to work on Christmas morning. The office wasn't open, but I went in anyway. I had a big case coming up, and I'd do anything to get ahead. So, I went in. I didn't wake up next to my wife on Christmas morning. I didn't watch my kids open their presents. And when Judy called to ask when I'd be home so that we could all drive to grandma's house together … I … I told her to go ahead without me. And that I'd meet them there in an hour." Walter sniffled, and Derek could see tears building in the older man's eyes. "The thing is," Walter continued, his voice hoarse and choked, "my family … they never made it."

"What?" Derek breathed, his voice barely a whisper.

"It was icy. And the driver behind them lost control. And …"

"They were killed?" Derek filled in, swallowing thickly.

"They were."

"All of them?"

"Yes."

Derek didn't realize that his body was trembling. He didn't realize that the hair on the back of his neck was standing straight up. All he could think about was Walter's story, and the tragedy of it all.

Walter wiped his eyes with a bar napkin. "I'd give anything to decorate one more tree with my family. I'd give anything to celebrate one last Christmas with them. I'd give anything to be able to say that Christmas is my season because I have a family to spend it with."

"I'm really sorry, Walter."

Walter shook his head sadly. "Brendan would have been twenty-one this year. He'd legally be able to drink a Christmas beer with his old man. And James would have been eighteen, and in his senior year of high school. He was such a smart boy. When he was five, he announced that he wanted to go to Yale. And, um … this Christmas, he probably would have had his acceptance letter in hand. I would have been so proud of him. And Maddy … she'd be sixteen. And I would have given her a car for Christmas. And I would have loved to see her face light up. She had the most expressive blue eyes. And Judy …" Walter continued, dabbing at his eyes with a napkin. "We would have been married twenty-five years. Twenty-five Christmases together as a married couple…"

"I … I'm so sorry," Derek whispered. He didn't know what else to say. There were no words for something like this.

Walter swallowed thickly, doing his best to regain his composure. "I … I don't know what happened between you and that woman you were with. But what I do know is that sometimes you don't realize what's important in your life until you lose it. My life is proof of that. And I don't want you to be like me … a guy who spends every Christmas Eve in a bar, getting drunk. I'm not telling you what to do. I'm just saying that Christmas makes you want to be with the people you love."

Derek nodded as he let Walter's words sink in. He wanted to say something … anything. But he didn't know what to say. Anything he said would feel inconsequential. So they drank together in silence until Walter finally spoke up.

"You don't need to stay here drinking with me, Derek."

"What?"

"You don't need to stay here with me," Walter repeated. "In fact, I'd prefer it if you didn't."

"What do you mean?"

"It's too late for me; but it's not too late for you. Don't make the same mistake I did. Spend Christmas with someone you love."

Derek sighed heavily before draining the rest of his scotch. "I don't mind staying here a little longer."

"No," Walter said, shaking his head. "Go spend Christmas with somebody that you love. Trust me … it's a lot better than being just a guy in a bar."

There was nothing for Derek to do but leave. So he did. Hopped in his car and began to drive. Only he didn't know where to go. Walter had parroted his words back to him— _Christmas makes you want to be with the people you love_. Except, right now, he didn't want to be with anyone. Not Addison. Not Meredith. He just wanted to be by himself, and sort through his emotions and the mess that his life had become.

So, he headed back to the trailer. He wasn't sure if Addison would be there. She wasn't; and, truth be told, Derek didn't blame her for not being there. He didn't know where she was. Maybe she'd checked into the Archfield for the night. Maybe she'd booked a flight to Connecticut to spend Christmas with her family. Maybe she'd gone to a different bar and was drowning her sorrows in martinis. What he did know was that it was freezing outside and the roads were icy.

Without really thinking about it, he picked up his phone and dialed Addison's number. She didn't answer, and as he listened to her voicemail, he swallowed roughly. "Hey, Addison," he choked out, once her voicemail greeting had ended. "It's me. I, um … the roads are really icy tonight, so, um, if you're driving or planning on driving … just … be careful. Okay. Bye."

 _Christmas Present_

It's not Christmas. It's the middle of July. But when Derek walks into Joe's after the day from hell and sees Walter sitting at the bar, he's instantly reminded of Christmas. He hasn't seen Walter since that Christmas Eve when Walter told him about his family; and a lot has happened since then.

"Here, this one's on the house," Joe says, pouring Derek a double scotch. "From what I hear, you need it."

Walter turns to Derek and offers him a wan smile. "Rough day?"

Derek nods. "You could say that."

"What happened?"

Derek starts to speak, but Joe's quicker. "His girlfriend broke up with him."

"No," Derek says shaking his head. "That's not it."

"What?" Joe asks in confusion. "Word on the street is that Burke didn't show up to his own wedding, and then Meredith broke up with you in front of everyone. Did that not happen?"

"No, it happened. It's just … that's not why I'm here. That's not why I'm upset."

Walter leans in a little closer. "Why are you here then?"

Derek sighs heavily. "After all that other stuff happened, Richard, my boss, called me into his office … and he told me that Addison's leaving."

"Addison's the woman you were here with on Christmas Eve?" Walter asks knowingly.

Derek nods sadly. "She's my ex-wife. It's just … hearing that she's leaving really shook me. I guess I didn't realize how much I cared until Richard told me that she's leaving. I mean, my girlfriend broke up with me today. She publically humiliated me in front of my friends and colleagues. But that doesn't matter. Addison's leaving … and, right now, that's the only thing I can think about." He turns to Walter. "I haven't seen you for a while. What are you doing here?"

"I try not to go to bars too much," Walter shrugs. "Because if I did, I'd be a perpetual drunken mess. So I try to only go to the bar on really bad days, like today."

"What's today?"

"Judy's birthday."

"Oh." Derek swallows roughly. "Judy's your wife, right?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry."

Walter gives him a slight nod, and sips at his beer. He turns to Derek, his sad brown eyes meeting Derek's sad blue ones. "Addison's leaving?"

"Yes."

"She's leaving?"

"Yes," Derek repeats, agitation creeping into his voice.

"So, that means she hasn't left yet." Walter concludes. "That means she's still here."

"Um … yeah, I guess."

"Then what are you doing here with me?" Walter demands. "You can still get your wife back. Go get your wife back."

"I, um … she won't want to see me. Things ended badly between us."

"No, things ended badly between me and my wife," Walter corrects. "Addison is still alive. Your marriage is still fixable."

Derek shakes his head in defeat. "She won't want to see me. She's probably moved on."

"Maybe she won't want to see you. And maybe she's moved on. But maybe she does want to see you. And maybe she hasn't moved on either. But, Derek, you'll never know if you don't go to her. And you'll always wonder what might have happened if you did something differently." He sighs heavily. "Take it from someone who's spent the better part of twelve years wondering what might have happened if he'd done something differently that one Christmas … it's a horrible feeling."

Derek nods as he lets Walter's words sink in. "You're right," he says quietly.

Walter gives Derek a slight smile. "Go to her."

Derek follows Walter's instructions, and after a couple of quick stops, he's at the Archfield, riding the elevator up to Addison's hotel room.

He knocks at the door, and waits for her to answer. To say she looks surprised to see him would be an understatement. She looks as though she's just seen the freakin' Ghost of Christmas Past.

"Derek," she breathes. "What are you doing here?"

"Richard told me you're leaving."

"Did he send you here?"

"No," Derek answers quickly. "No. He has no idea I'm here." He looks around the hotel. Suitcases are half packed. Shoes are in piles on the floor. It's all proof that what he fears the most is happening … Addison is leaving.

"What are you doing here, Derek?" Addison repeats, ripping Derek from his thoughts.

"Will you come with me somewhere?"

"What?" Addison asks in confusion.

"Will you come with me somewhere?"

"I probably shouldn't. I have to pack, and-"

"Please, Addison?"

Addison looks at Derek skeptically. "Does this have something to do with Meredith and what happened earlier today?"

"No. Addison, this is about you and me." He meets her eyes and looks at her pleadingly. "Please come with me."

Addison swallows roughly, uncertainties swimming in her eyes. "Okay," she finally agrees.

Derek smiles in relief. "Thank you."

He leads her to his car, and begins to drive.

"Derek, why are listening to Christmas music?" Addison asks in confusion, as 'Santa Baby' plays throughout the car.

Derek gives his ex-wife a warm smile. "It's nice, isn't it?"

Addison raises an eyebrow. "It's the middle of July."

Derek chuckles; and a few minutes later, they reach their destination.

Addison shoots her ex-husband a bewildered look. "Joe's Bar?"

Derek nods, as he gets out of the car. He quickly moves to her side of the car to get the door for her.

"Derek, I don't know…" Addison trails off, hesitantly accepting her ex-husband's hand, as he helps her out of the car.

Derek runs a hand through his hair. He knows where her reluctance is coming from; and he can't say he blames her. He's spent the better part of the last year being indifferent towards her. Him doting on her must seem completely uncharacteristic.

"Before we go in, I need you to put this on," Derek says, handing Addison a bright red knit scarf.

"Derek, it's the middle of July," Addison points out.

"I know," Derek nods. "But I'm wearing one too," he rationalizes, wrapping a green, reindeer-patterned scarf around his neck.

Addison can't help but laugh. "Wait …" she trails of slowly. "The green and red Christmas scarves … the Christmas music in the car …?" She looks at her ex-husband in confusion. "Derek, what's going on?"

"Nothing," Derek shrugs innocently, smiling in satisfaction as Addison wraps her red scarf around her neck.

Joe's isn't very crowded, but every eye in the room can't help but stare at the couple wearing Christmas scarves in the middle of July.

"Derek … Addison," Joe greets the ex-married couple, as they walk up to the bar. "You guys look … interesting."

"Two hot buttered rums, Joe," Derek orders, purposely ignoring the bartender's comment.

"What?" Addison and Joe ask in unison.

"Two hot buttered rums," Derek repeats.

Joe looks from Derek to Addison, and back to Derek. "You do realize it's the middle of July, right?"

Derek shrugs. "Yeah. So?"

"Nobody orders hot buttered rums in July."

"Do you have the stuff to make them?" Derek asks.

"Well … yeah."

"Then what's the problem?"

"No problem," Joe shrugs assuredly. "It's just an interesting drink order?"

"Not really," Derek disagrees. "They're delicious. And Dickensian," he adds, giving Addison a small smile.

He glances over at Walter, who's still sitting at the bar; and Walter gives him an encouraging nod. And as Derek leads Addison to a table near the bar, he resolves not to let Walter's fate be his fate. He doesn't want to spend the rest of his life drinking scotch by himself on Addison's birthday, trying to numb the pain. He wants to be by her side, drinking _with_ her, celebrating _with_ her.

"I don't get why you're trying to create Christmas in July," Addison admits once they're seated and drinking their hot buttered rums.

Derek swallows thickly. He knows that this might be his only chance to set things right, and he doesn't want to mess it up. "I treated you horribly last Christmas," he says quietly.

Addison nods in agreement. "But I deserved it."

"No," Derek says shaking his head. "Yes, you did a horrible thing. But I did too." He looks at his ex-wife sadly. "You're leaving," he whispers. Statement not question.

"Yes."

"You didn't tell me."

"I didn't think you'd care," she admits, looking away from him.

"Of course I care, Addison. I care a-"

"Why now, Derek?" Addison interrupts. "Why do you suddenly care now? Is it because Meredith broke up with you this afternoon?"

"No, Addison, I told you, this has nothing to do with-"

"Are you planning to use me to make her jealous? To make her want you back? Because let me tell you now that I-"

"No, Addison. This is about you and me. Richard told me that you were leaving and … I don't know what happened. I can't stand the thought of losing you. I can't stand the thought of never spending another Christmas together. And I'm sorry. I know the timing is terrible. But I'm not even thinking about my breakup this afternoon. I don't want to lose you."

Addison swallows thickly. The rational part of her brain knows that she should tell Derek to go to hell. To tell him that she's not just going to fall into his arms because he's changed his mind and wants to be with her. But then there's that other part of her … her heart. And right now, it's bruised pretty badly—between Derek, Mark, and Karev; being passed over for Richard's position; and learning that she has fertility problems and likely will never be able to have kids.

"When do you leave?" Derek asks, ripping Addison from her thoughts.

"Tomorrow."

Derek shakes his head in disbelief. This can't be happening. This can't happen.

"I should probably go," Addison says after a moment. "I still need to pack."

"No, wait," Derek insists. "Stay. Have another drink with me."

"I probably shouldn't."

"But we haven't done our Christmas shopping yet."

"What?"

"I know we always used to buy things for my family from Christmas catalogues," Derek begins. "So I tried to find some Christmas catalogues for us to look through. But it's July, and they don't exactly sell Christmas catalogues in July. So I got us the next best thing." He reaches into a paper bag and removes a stack of glossy magazines.

"Vogue?" Addison laughs.

"I thought you could teach me about the latest fashions," Derek supplies. "Maybe we could pick out some outfits for my sisters."

Addison chuckles. And even though every fiber of her being is screaming that this is a bad idea, she opens the latest issue of Vogue, and she and Derek start 'shopping.'

"Could you imagine Nancy in that?" Addison laughs, as she tries to imagine her very conservative ex-sister-in-law in a red, racy, avant-garde dress.

"I think that dress may be more Kathleen," Derek disagrees, struggling to speak through peals of laughter.

They've both drank three hot buttered rums. Inhibitions are down, but not gone completely.

"That hat for Lizzy," Derek smirks, pointing to an ornate navy hat. He knows that Addison says these hats are high-fashion, but to him, they just look silly.

Addison smiles; completely taken aback by how into all of this Derek is.

"Is everything okay?" Derek asks when he notices that Addison has fallen silent.

"Um, yeah. Yeah, everything's good," Addison nods. "It's just … thanks for doing this, Derek."

He smiles at her warmly, his eyes crinkling around the edges. "Merry Christmas, Addison."

She means to say 'thank you.' She means to say, 'Merry Christmas.' But the words don't come. Instead, she leans in. And so does he. And she's kissing him. And he's kissing her. And it's wrong and right; and everything she doesn't need, and exactly what she does need. It's wool Christmas scarves brushing against cheeks; and it's the faint taste of rum dangling on lips. It's hurt and it's fear, and it's hints of hope.

"Derek," Addison breathes when they finally break apart. "I … I can't." She stands up from her chair. "I should go."

"No, wait," Derek insists, standing up as well. Unlike last Christmas, he's not letting her leave without a fight.

"Derek, we can't do this again. We tried. We failed. I'm leaving tomorrow. What we're doing … what we just did … makes no sense."

"It makes perfect sense," Derek disagrees. "Because Christmas makes you want to be with the people you love."

"Don't say that."

"I'm saying it." He looks at her intently, his bright blue eyes meeting her pale blue-green ones. "Please don't go."

Addison sighs heavily, her resolve wavering. "I can't stay just for you. I already moved across the country for you once. I can't base all my big life decisions around you."

Derek nods in understanding. "So, don't move tomorrow," he bargains. "Stay here an extra week … or however long you want … and then decide."

Addison swallows thickly, weighing Derek suggestion carefully. "I'll think about it," she concedes after a moment.

"Really?" Derek asks hopefully.

Addison nods. "Really. Now come on," she smiles, flipping through the magazine in front of her. "We completely forgot to shop for Amelia."

 _Christmas Future_

Addison extends her stay a week. And then another week. And then a month. And after a while, they stop keeping track. Because there's no longer a need to keep track; Addison is staying for good.

Derek stifles a yawn as he looks around the hospital room that he's currently sitting in. His eyes land on his wife, who's asleep in the nearby hospital bed, and he runs a hand through his hair. He hates that Addison's in the hospital. But he's also very grateful that everything's going to be okay.

Hyperemesis gravidarum. Or in non-medical terms: very, very severe morning sickness.

It turned out that the plane ticket that Addison had bought to L.A. hadn't been in vain. Shortly after they got remarried, Derek accompanied Addison to L.A. for a round of IVF. It wasn't successful, and they were devastated.

It wasn't until a few months later, when they were discussing if and when they should try another round of IVF, that Addison realized she was late. And it took three pregnancy tests and a round of bloodwork for Addison to finally believe it—that they were having a baby. The two of them had apparently been able to do what Naomi and all of her fancy equipment hadn't.

Of course, they learned pretty quickly that it wasn't going to be easy. Addison's morning sickness (or more appropriately, all day sickness) was brutal. And two days ago, when she couldn't keep anything down—not even water—and started running a fever, they rushed her to the hospital, where she was diagnosed with hyperemesis gravidarum.

He was scared; and she was scared. And word of Addison's pregnancy broke in Seattle Grace much sooner than Addison or Derek would have liked. But that was a minor concern, in the end. Because Addison was going to be fine. She and their baby were both going to be fine. And that's what really mattered.

"Hey," Addison whispers groggily, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

"Hey," Derek smiles. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay." She meets his eyes. His are full of concern; hers are full of apologies. "I'm so sorry, Derek."

"What? Why?" Derek asks in bewilderment.

"Because it's Christmas morning. And we're stuck in the hospital. I'm sure this isn't the Christmas you had in mind."

Derek moves closer to his wife and kisses her cheek chastely. "I'd prefer it if you weren't in the hospital," he admits, taking her hand and interlacing their fingers. "But I'm just happy to be spending Christmas with you."

"Christmas makes you want to be with the people you love," Addison says, giving Derek a small smile.

"Exactly," Derek grins. "It's funny, though," he continues. "As happy as I am to be with you this Christmas, I can't help thinking about next Christmas."

"Really?"

"Yeah." Derek gives his wife a wide smile. "We'll have a five-month old, next Christmas. We'll be parents."

Addison can't help smiling at her husband's enthusiasm. "Next Christmas sounds pretty great."

Derek grins and crawls into his wife's hospital bed, being careful not to hit her IV. Addison's right; next Christmas sounds amazing. And as he holds Addison close, he can't help reflecting on how he almost gave all of this up … on how he almost lost everything.

Walter had lost everything. And over the past year or so, Derek has found himself thanking his lucky stars that Walter's fate hadn't been his fate. But he's especially thankful today. Because it's Christmas. And Christmas makes you want to be with the people you love.

He presses a kiss to his wife's temple and holds her a little closer. "Merry Christmas, Honey."

She turns in his arms carefully, her pale, blue-green eyes connecting with his intense blue ones. "Merry Christmas," she smiles. "I love you."

And as he continues to hold his wife, he knows he's lucky. And undeniably happy.

"What are you thinking about?" Addison asks, cutting into Derek's thoughts.

Derek smiles and presses another kiss to her temple. "You. Us. Next Christmas."

It's the truth. Derek can't wait for next Christmas. And the Christmas after that. There's nothing he wants more than to spend every Christmas for the rest of his life with Addison and their soon-to-be son or daughter (and any other children that may come into their lives).

He doesn't know what he was thinking that one Christmas, when he first met Walter—and Walter chastised him for the horrible way he'd treated Addison. All he knows is that he wasn't thinking clearly that Christmas. Because now he can't imagine not spending Christmas with Addison.

Addison's his past, present, and future; his yesterday, today, and tomorrow. And he's incredibly grateful every day—but especially today. Because it's Christmas. And Christmas is their season. Always was, always will be.

* * *

Happy Holidays!


End file.
